


May Others Plan Their Future, I’m Busy Loving You

by hopefulwriter27



Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-15
Updated: 2012-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-03 17:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefulwriter27/pseuds/hopefulwriter27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The perfect life with Blaine that Kurt’s always planned has fallen apart. Blaine is gone, Kurt’s a divorcee, and his life no longer has direction. Then Kurt returns to Lima to visit his Dad and Carole, and he runs into Dave Karofsky. The man has grown up, and he teaches Kurt that just because plans don’t turn out the way Kurt wanted, it doesn’t mean that he can’t be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No idea where this came from, but I’m going with it.

** Part 1 **

 

In the end, Kurt keeps the ring. It’s simple and gold, nothing spectacular. The engraving on the inside-  _forever and always yours_ _-_ is hidden from view, but it burns hot through his chest. The heat isn’t a good feeling. Its path leaves Kurt’s insides feeling scorched and tender. Still, Kurt finds himself wearing the damned thing around his finger months after the divorce.

“Can I buy you a drink?” asks a handsome blonde.

Kurt smiles and tucks his chin in hand. “Sure,” he said, twisting his bored smirk into what he hopes is a flirty pout.

The guy’s eyes slide across Kurt’s lips and land on the metal. His nose wrinkles, age lines pucker around his eyes. “Actually, I just remembered I’m late to meeting my friends.”

Kurt frowns then sighs as the man’s broad shoulders disappear into the crowd. Kurt turns and holds his empty glass for the bartender to see.

_Just one more and I’ll go._

###

 

Home these days is a two bedroom, second story apartment in Queens. It doesn’t have the open floor plan of the loft he and Blaine shared, nor is it a ten minute walk to Central Park. It is, however, located six blocks from Ragtime, the best Italian grocer Kurt’s had the pleasure of running into since he moved to New York. His fridge is stocked with Mozzarella balls, and he has fresh rolls with dinner at least once a week.

Kurt uses the smaller bedroom as a make-shift office since he has yet to go into his real one since the separation. An L-shaped, black lacquered desk holds his laptop on one side and his desktop on the other. Sketches of multi-colored costumes are pinned to the long corkboard on the opposite wall. However, instead of working, Kurt fiddles around with iTunes, making playlists called “Sobbing” and “Screw Him” and his personal favorite, “It’s Not Fucking Perfect,” which includes Mercedes’ new chart topper,  _Bring Him Down._

Weeks meld into months and one morning Kurt wakes up to the phone ringing. “Hello?” he says, vision blurry and mouth dry as a desert. There’s a half-empty bottle of ice wine sitting on his nightstand-  _damn, that’s a waste,_ along with a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich.

“Dude, I’m outside your place. Come let me in.”

“Finn?” Kurt says. He pushes himself up and glances at the clock. “It’s seven o’clock in the morning.”

“I know,” chirps his step-brother. “Rachel and I got in a fight. I need pancakes.” Kurt squeezes his eyes shut and rubs at his temples. “Kurt?”

“I’m getting up. Hold on a sec and I’ll come down.”

Finn has a bag slung over his shoulder and his hair is sticking up all over the place. His coat is mis-buttoned, and half-circles hang under his eyes. Kurt hops from foot to foot, toes cold against the cement steps, and says, “Hurry up, before I freeze to death.”

Kurt waits until Finn has a mouthful of banana wheat pancakes before asking, “What happened?”

Finn swallows and licks his lips. “I don’t know.” He runs a hand through his hair. Kurt catches sight of the thick gold band around his step-brother’s finger and glances at his own hand. “One minute we’re reading Babs a goodnight story, and the next Rachel is biting my head off about not doing the dishes.” He dips his finger in syrup pooled at the edge of his plate and licks it away. Kurt wrinkles his nose, but says nothing. “We fought all night, and after like, no sleep, she starts in with me again this morning!”

Kurt sighs and holds out his own piece of turkey bacon. Finn accepts the offering and shoves it in his mouth. Kurt’s stomach rolls, and he takes a sip of his coffee to calm his alcohol induced aches. “Were you supposed to do the dishes?”

Red darkens his cheeks, and Finn looks down at his plate. “I got busy.” His head snaps back up. “I just don’t understand why it such a big deal! They’re just dishes!”

“Finn,” Kurt scolds. “It’s not about the dishes. It’s about Rachel being seven months pregnant and not wanting to have to do any extra work. She’s tired, and missing her job. You need to give her some slack.”

Finn frowns and chugs down his juice. His should sag. “I know. She’s not good a being bored.” He meets Kurt’s gaze and adds, “I’m not good at remembering chores.”

Kurt kicks him lightly under the table. “I know.”

The corners of Finn’s mouth rise. “I should apologize?”

“Flowers and candy,” Kurt replies.

“Flowers and candy,” Finn repeats.

 

###

 

They walk down to Jill’s Flower Garden, eight blocks south of Kurt’s apartment, and Finn spends twenty minutes searching before settling on a bouquet of white orchids. “What do you think?” He holds them up for Kurt to see.

Kurt inspects them, checking for drooping or ripped petals. “They look good.”

Finn brings them to his nose and sniffs. “I don’t want them to be good. I want them to be magical.”

A bright beam of sunlight streams through the store’s front windows and beats Kurt between the eyes. His head throbs, and he tugs his sunglasses back out of his pocket. “Finn, as much as I love flowers, and you, I’ve had about five hours of sleep, and I’m nursing a hangover. Nothing seems magical to me right now.”

His step-brother’s eyes narrow over the bouquet, and he stares for an endless second.  Finn lowers his arm, the flowers drop, and he steps closer. His voice is soft as he says, “I’m sorry. I never even asked how you’re doing.”

“Besides my pounding head? I’m fine,” Kurt says. Finn’s eyes dart to the ring on Kurt’s left hand and frown lines appear over his brow. Kurt stuffs his hand into his coat pocket. He can’t keep the sharp edge from his voice when he says, “Are you almost finished? I need another few hours of sleep before work.”

“You’ve started back at the office again?”

Kurt looks down at his shoes. “Well no, but I’m designing like a mad-man from home. I turned in three costumes just last week.” Kurt doesn’t mention that Mitchell sent them back with a giant question mark attached to the file and the note, “ _You’re lucky I think you’re fucking magnificent,”_ scribbled across the first page.

Finn stares at him for a moment, and then tension in his shoulders ease. Kurt relaxes, thinking the conversation is over. “Have you talked to him?

The question knocks the air from Kurt’s lungs like a punch to the chest. His legs go weak, and his eyes begin to burn. He can’t think, so he answers honestly. “No.” The word comes out harsh and dry. “He’s tried to call me a few times, and he sent me a letter.” It’s in Kurt’s scarf drawer, hidden from view. “I couldn’t read it.”

“Don’t you think it will give you some closure if you talk to him?” Finn asks.

 _Closure,_ Kurt thinks unkindly. _Rachel’s taught him well._ “It probably would,” Kurt admits. “But I just can’t.” Sorrow clogs his throat, and Kurt gasps for a breath. Tears cloud his eyes and turn turns his head, unable to look at his brother. “He left me.” A hand touches his shoulder. “He found someone else, someone better.”

The plastic wrap from the flowers crunches against his back as Finn wraps his long arms around Kurt. “There is no one better,” Finn whispers into his hair.  

Kurt presses his face into Finn’s shoulder. _Then why wasn’t I enough?_ His fingers dig into Finn’s coat and cries, right there in the damned flower shop. _Why wasn’t I enough?_


	2. Chapter 2

** Part 2 **

Two months and three days later Rachel goes into labor at one-eighteen in the morning, and at eleven-twenty-nine Kurt’s first nephew is born. Kurt’s dozing in one of the waiting room chairs when Finn comes out, red-faced and exhausted. “Hey,” he says.

Kurt startles awake and blinks at his brother. Finn smiles, and a matching grin cracks over Kurt’s face. He jumps up from the seat and asks, “Boy or girl?”

Finn’s eyes go even brighter, and he says, “Come meet Brennan Patrick Hudson.”

An excited laugh escapes Kurt, and he follows Finn’s heels back to Rachel’s room. She looks up as they enter. Brennan is curled to her chest. Sweat glistens over her flushed skin, but Kurt thinks she looks lovely.  “So not nearly as long for number two,” Kurt jokes.

Rachel smiles and replies, “Babs takes her time with everything.” She leans down and presses a tender kiss to her son’s temple. “Come see.”

Kurt walks to the bed and runs his finger down the baby’s cheek. “Brennan,” Rachel says, “Meet your fabulous Uncle Kurt.” She tilts him in Kurt’s direction. “Kurt, meet Brennan.”

His nephew’s eyes drift close and his little nose wrinkles. Kurt blinks away tears. “Hi Brennan,” he says. “I’m Kurt. I’m going to teach you how to dress and dance.”

Rachel laughs. “I’m going to have two stars now.”

Finn leans over the bed and kisses his wife and his son.  A pang of longing tears through Kurt’s chest. Luckily, LeRoy distracts them all. “Hello, hello!” he says. “Look who I found in the lobby.”

“Mom, Burt!”

“Dad!” Kurt greets his father with a hug and gives Carole a peck on the cheek. Arm still wrapped around Kurt, Burt leans over and clasps Finn on the shoulder. Finn ducks his head and grins as if he’s brought home a straight-A report card.

LeRoy kisses the top of his daughter’s hair and says, “Your dad will be here in a minute. Barbara needed a potty break on the way up.”

Burt and Carole congratulate the new parents and deposit a bouquet of flowers on the bedside table. “They’re beautiful,” Rachel says.

“You’re beautiful,” Carole replies.

Soon Hiram returns with Babs and Kurt scoops her up upon her entrance. “Look at this princess,” he says. She squeals and laughs. _At least one of us has gotten some sleep,_ he thinks. 

Finn takes her from his arms blows a raspberry on her belly. “Come meet your little brother.”

She stills and glances over to Rachel. “Mama?” Finn set her down on the bed, but keeps a hand on her back and she crawls up Rachel’s side.

“Gentle,” Rachel says. Babs stares at the baby. “This is Brennan, and he’s your baby brother.”

Kurt watches them bond. A heavy weight settles on his chest. After a moment, he slips out of the room and heads back to the lobby area of the maternity ward. He passes by the large, clear window showing off all the newborn babies and stops. Arms crossed around his chest, Kurt follows the nurses as they go from baby to baby, checking vitals.

“Hey Buddy,” Burt says softly.

“Hey Dad.”

Kurt doesn’t turn to his father, but he can see the reflection of his dad’s blue shirt and matching baseball cap in the window. Kurt doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing. After a few minutes Burt moves closer, pressing his arm against his son’s. “They sure are cute, huh?”

Kurt chokes back a sob. “Yeah, yeah they are.” Burt doesn’t respond, and a heartbeat later Kurt says, “I just thought I’d have one of my own by now.” The words break the damn, and tears begin to slide down his face.

“Oh, Kurt,” Burt whispers. He tugs his son to his chest and rubs his hand up and down Kurt’s back.

“Nothing’s like I planned,” Kurt says, words stumbling over his tears. He presses his nose to his dad’s neck and breaths deep.

“Sometimes,” Burt says gently into Kurt’s ear, “that happens. Plans fall apart, things change. We have to adapt.”

The image of soft blonde hair, long lanky arms and pale, freckled skin slides through Kurt’s brain. “Do you ever miss Mom?” he asks.

Burt’s arms tighten around his body and his dad days, “Of course. I think about her all the time.”

Kurt pulls back and looks at his father. “Really?”

Burt nods.

“Even with Carole?”

“I love Carole with all my heart, but that doesn’t stop me from loving your mother too. We never really stop caring for those we fall in love with. They’ll always be a part of us.” Burt puts a hand on each of Kurt’s shoulders. “But when unexpected things happen, we need to give ourselves time to heal, but we need to heal or we’ll never be happy.”

Kurt wipes his sleeve across his eyes, but fresh tears quickly come. “I just don’t know what to do.” Kurt takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. His eyes flutter to the ground. “I’ve been let go from my job,” Kurt says.

Burt’s sharp breath whips across Kurt’s body like a lash. “Kurt…” he says mournfully.

“I know.” More tears burn across Kurt’s cheeks. “What am I going to do?” He covers his face with his palms.

There’s a moment of nothing, then, Burt says, “Why don’t you come home to Lima?”

Kurt drops his arms and looks at his father.

“Just listen,” Burt says, holding out his hands. “You know that Henry’s been running the shop ever since I took office.” Kurt nods. “Well, he told me a couple of months ago that he’s ready to retire. I don’t have time to manage the shop and help run a state. Why don’t you come stay with us and help run the shop?”

Kurt hasn’t worked on a car beside his or Blaine’s in years, and he’s been known to be a cranky boss. “I don’t think that’s a great idea Dad.”

“Why not?” Burt asks. “It would just be for a little while-  until I can find a new manager. You can get your bearings while helping out your old man.”

Kurt thinks about the town he grew up in, and the city he currently lives. He sniffs and dries his tears again. “It would be nice to change the scenery a bit.” _To get away from the place where Blaine and I had a life._ He meets Burt’s gaze. “Just for a few weeks though. A month at the most, until we find a new manager.”

A smile pokes at the corners of his dad’s face. Burt tugs him in for another hug. “Thanks.”

 _No, thank you,_ Kurt thinks. _Thank you for always being there for me. Thank you for always loving me._ “I love you Dad,” Kurt says.

“I love you too Buddy.” Burt slaps Kurt lightly on the back. “Now let’s go see my grandson.”

A smile wobbles on Kurt’s face. “Okay.” He pulls a tissue from his pocket and blows his nose. They walk back to Rachel’s room, and Kurt thinks, _back to Lima it is._

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was so long between chapters. Life got hectic.

**Part 3**   
             
“I just want some damned Twizzlers.” Kurt curses under his breath and pushes his cart around the cardboard display of candy hearts. The abundance of pink and red is pressing against his nerves like a bad knot. The jar of tomato sauces falls from its spot at the top of the frozen vegetables and crashes into his bread as he jerks his cart to the side, narrowly avoiding an accident with a bleach-blonde woman and her toddler. “Can’t anything go right?” He grabs his bread and looks at the smashed side. A sigh escapes his lips as he contemplates the fight back to the bread aisle.   
  
Why I did I wait until the day before Valentine’s to go grocery shopping ? If it had been just him, Kurt would have gotten by with the bottle of pineapple rum, the bag of celery, and the box of Raisin Bran in the pantry.  Shopping for Burt and Carole, plus stocking the small kitchenette at the shop is a whole other story. He’s been at Giant Eagle for the better part of an hour, and only half the items on his list are in his shopping cart.  I'm to need a cocktail when I get home.   
  
Kurt tosses the a bread back into the cart and glances down the aisle towards the display of Twizzlers. There's a gray-haired woman with a mountain of dog food, browsing leisurely through the Kit-Kat and Snicker's shelf. Her cart blocks half the aisle. Further ahead, a step away from the Twizzlers, is a broad shouldered man in a Buckeye t-shirt. Kurt grits his teeth and attempts to ease his cart around both the old woman and man. He makes it past the woman with a little fancy driving, but the edge of his cart clips the man's, forcing a collision with the guy’s hip.    
  
"Sorry." Kurt yanks his cart backwards as the man turns.   
  
"Kurt?" the guy says. "Kurt Hummel?"    
  
Surprise flutters through Kurt's chest and he looks the man over. He's a little softer in the middle, and he has a little less hair, but it doesn't take more than moment recognize him. "David?"   
  
Dave's eyes crinkle as he smiles. Any lingering doubt of the man's identity vanishes. "Holy shit. I didn't expect to see you here!" He eases around his shopping cart and holds out his hand. Kurt gives in to the social nicety and shakes.    
  
"I'm in town helping my dad with the shop," Kurt says.    
  
Dave smiles again and drags his hand through his hair. Kurt can't help but notice that there are no rings on his fingers. His hand drops to his side and he says, "How long are you in town? We should get coffee and catch up."   
  
Coffee with David Karofsky,  Kurt thinks. A strange sort of tickle rattles through his stomach. "Uh, sure," Kurt says. He glanced at his watch and winces at the time. "I really need to finish shopping, and I need to spend a few hours at the shop, but how about tonight? Sevenish?"   
  
“Sounds good,” Dave says. He pulls his phone from his back pocket. “What your number in case anything comes up?”    
  
They exchange numbers and Dave slides his phone away. “Can you do me a favor and toss me a package of Twizzlers?” Kurt asks.    
  
Dave reaches out and grabs a bag. His biceps bulge under his shirt. A flash of heat burns behind Kurt’s ears.  It’s been too damned long since I’ve had sex,  Kurt thinks. “Thanks,” he says as Dave holds out the candy. “I’ve been jonesing.” Kurt lays them over the cans of Diet Coke and watches as Dave tosses a bag in his own cart.    
  
“I pretty much like any candy,” Dave says. He smiles, and Kurt finds himself returning the gesture.    
  
Kurt tugs out his grocery list and glances at what he has left. “Wish me luck,” he replies, waving his list.    
  
Dave snorts. “Good luck. The grocery store is a dangerous place.”   
  
“It is!” Kurt defends. “The people here are vicious!”    
  
The old lady shopping the chocolate up the aisle says, “Excuse me,” stealing Kurt’s attention.    
  
He moves his cart, letting her by, and turns back to Dave. “Well, I’ll see you later.”   
  
“I look forward to it.”    
  
###   
  
Lima Bean is just as Kurt remembers- delicious smelling and full of teenagers. "The rumor mills will be flying tomorrow," Dave says. He sets Kurt's coffee on the table and takes the opposite seat. "Mr. Karofsky meeting with a strange man at the coffee shop."   
  
Kurt takes a sip of his soy latte, letting the heat warm his insides. "My dad told me you’re working at McKinley," Kurt says. It’s more of a question than a statement.   
  
"Yeah, its my third year as Athletic Director. I coach football and hockey and all of the other sports you hate," Dave jokes.    
  
“Hey, I played on the football team!” Kurt says with a raised eyebrow.    
  
Dave tiles his head, eyebrows dipping towards his nose. “Oh yeah, I forgot about your short little stint as the kicker. How long did that last? A couple of months?”   
  
“Three weeks.” Kurt takes another sip of his coffee.    
  
Dave snorts. “You sports fanatic you.”    
  
A laugh tumbles from Kurt’s lips. “When did you become so funny?”    
  
“About the time I lost my virginity in college.”    
  
Coffee cartwheels down his windpipe. Kurt coughs until he can breathe again.  “Wow, wasn’t expecting that.” He takes in the grin on Dave’s face and says, “You’ve really lightened up over the years.”    
  
“It was either that or live a maniac cycle of depression and grief,” Dave says with a shrug. “After high school I started seeing a therapist. She helped me accept myself. I started dating out in the open- keeping the people who brought me down out of my life. I’ve even been to a few Prides in Columbus.”   
  
Kurt shakes his head. "You'll have to give me a minute to process this new Dave with the one I remember from high school."   
  
Dave drags his thumb along the edge of the table. "The bully Dave." His eyes are glued to his coffee.    
  
"The sad, scared Dave,” Kurt replies. Dave raises his head, looking at Kurt with disbelief. Kurt lifts his fingers. "Don't get me wrong. I remember those shoves into the lockers, but I forgave you for that a long time ago."   
  
Dave ducks his head again. Pink colors his cheeks. After a moment he looks up and says, "You haven't changed at all. You're still the smartest, noblest man I know."    
  
Butterflies explode in Kurt's stomach. Coherent thoughts slide from his ears to the tiled floor below. Unable to grasp words, Kurt does what he always does. He jokes. “I wouldn’t say that I haven’t changed.” He pats his stomach. “I’ve gained like fifteen pounds in the last ten years.”    
  
A grin pulls at the corner of Dave’s mouth. “Don’t worry, it’s a good look for you. I always thought you were a bit too skinny.”    
  
Kurt’s face goes warm. His eyes flicker from the table to his cup and finally back to Dave. “Thanks,” he says. “That’s sweet of you to say.” It’s been ages, hell years, since Kurt’s flirted with someone he knows. The two one-night stands he’s had since Blaine were encouraged by gallons of alcohol. Before their split, well, Blaine was always the jealous type.    
  
“So, uh,” Dave says softly. He’s sitting back in his chair, wrists against the edge of the table. “How have you been otherwise? I see your dad every so often, but we don’t talk much. How’s life in New York? And the husband? Did you leave him home to man the house?”   
  
The question is a punch in the gut. His whole body tenses, and his jaw aches as his grinds his teeth together. Kurt has to force his mouth open to relieve the pressure and suck in air. Dave is looking at him, head tilted questionly.  Did you leave him home to man the house?  “Actually,” Kurt says. Each word feels like an anvil. “Blaine and I divorced about nine months ago.” His eyes begin to burn.    
  
“Shit.” Dave rubs at the back of his head. His eyes flicker to Kurt’s left hand. Kurt catches the glance and drops his arms under the table. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”   
  
“No,” Kurt says, “I know.” A laugh breaks out from a group of girls at the table behind them, and barrels into Kurt’s chest like a battering ram. “I think I should go.” He stands. “Thanks for the coffee Dave. It was great to catch up.”   
  
“Wait, you don’t have to do that.” Dave jumps up and holds out his hand.    
  
“I really think I do.” All of the earlier humor is gone from Dave’s face, and he looks like he just killed his mother’s cat. “Look, it’s not your fault. Like you said, you had no idea. I just...” A boy walks past wearing a black blazer with red piping. His hair is dark and curly. “I need to go.”    
  
He bumps into the table next to them, mummbles sorry to the couple sitting there, and keeps going. “Kurt,” Dave calls out. Kurt keeps walking.    
  
“Kurt,” he hears again.    
  
I’m sorry,  Kurt thinks. Guilt wells in his chest, but it’s nothing in comparison to the grief choking his throat. He stuffs his hands into his coat pocket and heads home. He doesn’t look back.      
  
  
  



End file.
